The phone rings at three o’clock in the morning. I sit up and for a moment wondering if it is my alarm ringing. Then my scattered attention shifts to the phone. Of course. It must be Frank.
"Hello?" I croak into the phone.
"Darling!…I have something for you….Can you come?"
Frank is British and even his voice is sexy. I smile into the phone. Outside my window, snow covers the ground. It is February, cold, gray interminable February.
I’am thinking I an home.. Ooo I’am Caribeam hotel room….
"Frank, I don’t have a thing to wear," I protest rubbing the sleep from my eyes.
He laughs, "Darling, this is ME! What makes you think you’ll be wearing anything?"
Who could resist that? Certainly not me. I slide through the phone wires, the world dissolving gray and fuzzy around me, until I am suddenly solid again, standing in his room at the hotel.
The room is gorgeous. It is a second story room, large and airy, with a balcony that looks right onto the iridescent, peacock blue water of the Caribbean. The white sand beach sparkles and the air shimmers outside on the balcony, in that magical ambiance of the tropics.
The room is furnished 89in an expensive colonial fashion, the huge wicker canopy bed is draped in mosquito netting and the room has an adjoining bathroom bigger than my whole bedroom at home. Frank never does anything by halves, bless him.
He looks me over, his eyes taking in my sleep tousled hair, the bags under my eyes and my pasty, winter skin.
"Coffee? Or a tub? How about both at once?" His hand moves to the phone and room service is on its way before my toes hit the hot water of the tub. I might looks like a rag, but Frank does not. He looks as fresh and welcome as a strawberry dakeri on a hot day. He is tall and has the slim, sleek build of a swimmer. His expensive clothes hang wonderfully on him, a linen shirt, khaki pants and a gold chain with the image of kokopelli hangs over his tan chest. I have always admired his high check bones, almost delicate temple and his shapely chin, but I like best his mobile, sensitive mouth. So ready to smile and so expert at kissing. Topping it all off are his attentive blue eyes whose focus never leaves me for very long. He looks like an amiable, well-healed version of the god Pan.
After my ablutions are complete, Frank meets me in the doorway of the bathroom, a huge white towel ready and a familiar twinkle in his eye as he rakes his gaze over my naked body. There is that wry, one cornered smile. He holds out the towel and wraps me in an embrace and a deep, tongue filled kiss. As anxious as I am to explore the island, I resign myself with a happy sigh to the fact that we will not be leaving the hotel room any time soon.
Making love to Frank is always an adventure. One never knows what will come next, which is part of his delight. It really is a daylong event. Or perhaps a serious of interconnected events that all merge together. We begin by standing out on the balcony drinking coffee. I am wrapped in the thick white hotel robe, I smile up at him and he leans down and kisses me again.
The first flush of passion creeps into the kiss and before long, we are in each other’s arms. I am pressed up against the stucco wall of the balcony, his weight pushing me into he wall, his hand under the robe on my breast, thumbing my nipple to life. Frank nibbles on my lower lip, begging for entry. I open my mouth to him, sighing as he slips his tongue inside. I can feel his cock, hard now, through the fine fabric of his pants. My hands run down his chest, opening the linen shirt, unzipping his trousers and coaxing his pulsing shaft from inside his pants.
His fingers are between my legs now, easing them apart, teasing my lips, opening me up. I am glad the wall is supporting me or I would surely fall, my knees buckling with the pleasure of him. His fingers find their way to my clit as his kiss deepens, I feel like he is sucking the air right out of my lungs, I am so weak.
Then I am bending over the rail of the balcony, taking in the scene below me. People are strolling on the beach in front of the hotel and boats dot the water. I can see the green and purple shadow of the coral reef curving off through the bay. And I can feel Frank’s hard cock poised at the entrance to my pussy. He is standing behind me, his hands on my waist, pushing the bathrobe out the way. Looking over my shoulder briefly, I see that his shirt is open, his fly undone enough to free his cock. He looks good enough to eat, his pulse beating hard at the base of his throat, the gold kokopelli sparklingly on his sculpted chest.
But before I can follow that thought into action, he slides into me with a smooth thrust. His cock is wonderful, long and thick at the base with a nice upwards curve to it. He moves in slowly at first, allowing me time to adjust to the feeling of him inside me. I groan and bite my lip, gripping the rail with two hands, taking very deep breaths. My job is not to cum. Not yet! The game is only beginning. Frank stands there, hands on his hips, cock thrust up me to the hilt, while he gazes at the million-dollar view, looking like a king serenely contemplating his realm.
We end up on the wicker chaise lounge on the balcony, both naked and sweat covered by now. Frank is laying on his back while I ride him, loving the feeling of the sun on my shoulders and the fullness of his cock in me. I still haven’t cum yet and neither has he.
On the balcony next to us, a woman comes out and smokes a cigarette, looking at the view. She turns around and walks by us, but never glances our way. I’d that swear Frank exerts a magic force field around us that ensures privacy in even the most public venues. To my knowledge it is effective on limo drivers, airplane stewardesses, and people in movie theatres.
My hands move on his chest and he cups my breast in one hand. It has been a long time for me and I feel that coiling in my gut, my bottom tingles, the energy in my body pools, like liquid fire to my groin. I can’t help it, I pick up the pace now, riding Frank hard and fast until my nails make marks on his chest and I am grinding down on him wildly.
My orgasm hits me like a brick wall and I surrender happily to it, feeling the waves of pleasure wash over me. It’s always a delight losing this game to Frank, but he it not so far behind me this time and grabs my waist, thrusting me down on top of him until I can feel his cock jump and twitch inside of me and he cries out, hoarse and triumphant.
It is sometime later, after a nap, more coffee and more kissing. We are sitting in the hotel’s beautiful courtyard restaurant having a meal. Is it lunch or breakfast? Life with Frank has no time. There is only time to eat, time to sleep and time to make love.
It’s a lovely spot, the garden restaurant with lush plants growing just a few feet from the white sand beach. The view is peerless, the food wonderful. A true Frank moment.
After the meal, while we are happily waiting for the waiter to bring us another round of drinks, I suddenly want him again. We have talked about everything. Frank is a wonderful listener and full of stories too. I love to just watch him. The sea breeze lifts his light brown hair from his brow. He is sitting perfectly still, a contented smile on his face and although he is not moving, there is a shimmering energy inside him, just under the surface.
My hand falls to his thigh and I stroke him lightly, watching his reaction as my hand moves closer to his cock. He smiles at me, face still serene, but radiates pleasure like a cat being petted. His cock jumps under my fingers when I brush by it. With my one hand, I deftly unzip his trousers and free his trapped cock. It springs up under the table, standing at full attention now. Good thing there is a long, full tablecloth on the table! I stroke Frank one handed while around us, people eat and drink and walk by the beach. His face takes on a far away concentrated look. You would think he was contemplating his stock portfolio, or the best way to tack a sailboat around the bay. And then with the slightest perceptible shudder and a hint of a smile, he pumps himself into my hand. I capture it all in my palm and lifting my hand to my mouth, suck it all in and swallow it whole, like eating an oyster on the half shell. I am rewarded with a long deep kiss there at the table, Frank looks deeply into my eyes and runs a loving finger across my check bone.
Now it his turn to torment me. He gets his revenge in the taxicab on the way to the beach. We are going to a famous beach on the island, and we have our beach bags packed with a nice pick nick lunch, courtesy of the hotel kitchen. Frank’s hand slides along my bare thigh, slipping under the short hem of my island sundress. He is sitting very close to me, one hand around my shoulder the other one, fingering my clit as he prattles on about something. I let his voice wash over me, watch the incredible scenery flash by me, and feel his cool fingers circling my clit, so softly. One finger eases my lips apart and his thumb stays on my clit while a delicate finger slowly, sweetly eases into me. It is such torture! I want him to fuck me so badly by the time we get the beach, but I get out of the cab with as much dignity as I can, my legs trembling as my feet hit the sand of the parking lot.
Soon we are ensconced in beach chairs, a waiter has been dispatched for cool drinks and Frank is rubbing sun tan lotion all over me. He starts at my toes, squirting some lotion into his palms and coats each toe, paying lots of attention to the spaces between my toes. It takes him about half an hour to cover my body with lotion and it is massage worthy of the best island masseuse. Then it my turn to do him. It feels so good to run my fingers through his muscles, to feel his soft skin, like a layer of silk covering the hard muscle underneath and he groans satisfactorily has I rub him, letting me know how much he is enjoying it.
It’s a lovely day. We snorkel the reef, doze in the sun and then unpack our pick nick basket. Frank is perfect company. Always ready to talk about anything, and yet we can hold long, comfortable silences between us. And somehow we are still groping and kissing each other, teasing each other all through the day until with the westering sun in our eyes, Frank says to me,
"Come on, let’s take a walk, I can’t wait another minute to fuck you."
We walk for a while down the sandy beach, hand in hand, until we come to a beach restaurant. Frank walk around the back, pulling me along until we come to a series of changing rooms. He is on me as soon as the door bangs behind us, leaning me up against the wall, dropping his bathing suit to the floor. We don’t need any foreplay, the whole day has been foreplay and I have been wet for him for hours. He stands close in front of me and lifts up my leg under my knee. Then hastily pushing aside the crotch of my bikini, he thrusts into me. There is nothing gentle here, no tender endearments whispered, just a powerful need for release. My passion flares up suddenly and I grip his shoulders hanging on for dear life as he slams into me, breathing heavily in my ear, growling, his back rigid, his butt muscles tight as he thrusts. He gets the rhythm just right and I am transfixed by the proper English gent’s transformation into a growling animal.
He cums first this time, biting my lip in our kiss and slamming me hard up against the wall. But he keeps right on thrusting until just a minute later the dam in me bursts somewhere, my guts twist and I have to bite his shoulder to keep from screaming. My legs are so weak I am glad he is still pining me to the wall with his cock or I would surely fall.
"Come on, darling. Let’s pack up and go back to the hotel. I want to do that again, this time in a bed."
But of course, first there is dinner and a bottle of red wine and hours of dancing to the intoxicating music of the Caribbean.
When finally we make it to the bedroom, Frank stands in front of me, his hand on the back of my head. He grasps my hair and gently pulls my head back to meet his kiss. It is commanding and deep. Frank is in charge this time and will take his pleasure from my body, giving it back to me in full measure.
He is slow, in no hurry at all, undressing me carefully, never taking his eyes from me. I sit on the edge of the bed as he spreads my legs open wide and eats me slowly, his tongue circling my clit, a finger stealing inside me. He takes a plenty of time, investigating all of me, until my hips circle and I am begging and pulling on him.
The moon rises over the bay outside and fills the bed with moonlight. Frank stands up, looking magnificent naked and I take his cock in my mouth, sucking it all the way in, savoring it while he thrusts gently into my mouth, his face locked into a smile of blissful concentration.
Frank presses me back onto the bed and slides up the length of me, hissing a little as he enters me. And then it is long, full strokes, the sweat on our bodies pools between my breasts. He thrusts faster until we are slamming into each other, our bodies on a crash course towards ecstasy. My orgasm rips through me, starting down around my toes, back arched, hands grabbing the sheets of the bed with so much tension that I get a cramp in the back of my leg, and then the world turns upside down and my release washes over me. Frank pumps wildly, thrashing on top of me and then becomes quite still as he gives his orgasm his full attention, savoring it.
As we drift off to sleep, holding each other, I know I will wake back up in my own cold bed, quite alone, far from the heat and passion of the Caribbean and the happy, lovely. The only souvenirs I bring back with me are sore muscles, a contented, well-used body, pumped full of endorphins and the slightest hint of a tan…..